The Others
by Lost in Azura
Summary: The Dovahkiin wasn't the only one to escape from the fateful encounter at Helgen, four wanted criminals flee from their Imperial captors, but for how long can they hide? and can they trust each other? pos. oc/oc
1. A Date with Destiny

The Others

Chapter 1: A Date with Destiny

A/N – Hi guys, this is my first foray into the world of fanfiction in quite a few months as certain circumstances in my personal life have rendered me unable to write, but alas I have returned to spew my incomprehensible crap on the internet. Enjoy my poor readers, R&R please since you're all such wonderful people :D.

Disclaimer – I don't own TES, Skyrim, etc. etc.

-x-

If you asked anyone living in Skyrim today who the biggest hero of the 4th Era was, chances are that you would receive an unwavering and unvarying reply wherever in the land you went. Dovakhiin. The Dragon-Born. The mighty Nordic Warrior who slew the great dragon Alduin – he was as tall as a giant and as strong as a mammoth, with the ferocity of a Bear and the agility of a Sabre Cat. Truly he is one worthy of song, however his story has been told a thousand times over and sung a thousand more. No, I'm not here to recollect the tales of Dovakhiin to you, I want to tell you about an entirely different group of people who were there the day of Alduin's attack on Helgen – a story of betrayal, intrigue and frankly just as much excitement as that of the Dragon-Born – I'm here to tell you about the others.

-x-

Morndas 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201. A day that will live forever in my memory. The glowing warmth of the breaking dawn above the verdant Falkreath Pines contrasted with the chilling breeze that crept under my skin and froze my very bones, I could feel the end was near, and the beautiful sun was the beacon calling me to Sovngarde. I was sitting bound in a rickety imperial horse-drawn cart alongside my other captives who had been scheduled for execution like myself, just ahead of us was a second cart, this one I could just make out housed Jarl Ulfric of Windhelm, and the Dovakhiin himself; and just beyond them was the small village of Helgen. The smell of impending death hung heavy in the air.

There were four of us bound in the cart; the first was a Dunmer named Vayln Marvos, he was a thin-framed man with long wiry black hair which was messily tied behind his back in a ponytail. His face was very gaunt looking, his leathery dark turquoise skin tightly hugging his bones giving him a very profound jawline and cheekbones, which concaved dramatically into his face giving him an overall sickly look. But his eyes were by far his most striking feature; piercing crimson reds with faintly visible black pupils, merely looking into his eyes was deeply unsettling – if eyes are the windows into the souls then through this window one could observe a tortured soul which inspired both fear and pity in all those who knew him. In the hour-or-so journey that the four of us had spent together in this cart I'd learned a lot about my fellow captives, we were blood-brothers now, unified by our impending fates and unfortunate circumstances we'd formed a bond which would intrinsically tie us together long after this day had come and passed. Vayln's past was a long and sordid one, and he had no qualms in admitting that he deserved to be heading to his execution, about ten times over, as he had committed crimes most foul against not only Skyrim and her people, but against nature itself – he also had no qualms in admitting this. Marvos didn't want to die with a guilty conscience it seemed. Once a renowned wizard at the College of Winterhold; Vayln had started to develop a grudge against the Arch-Mage Savos Aren, what started out as a petty feud for superiority ended up in an assassination attempt on the Arch-Mage's life masterminded by Marvos and carried out by his resurrected army of dead mages buried within the College grounds – a rampaging horde of vicarious liches tore apart the College and 23 students lost their lives in attack, some were simply destroyed with magic, others however, were less fortunate and were disembowelled and cannibalized by the malevolent wraiths – feasting on living flesh made the undead nightmares more powerful. When it seemed like Vayln's attempt at destroying Savos and everything he held dear was just about ready to achieve fruition, the Arch-Mage sacrificed most of his power to seal the abominable horrors (and the majority of his life-force) into an amulet which he carries around his neck at all times to safeguard the terrible power it holds within. Understandably, after his rebellion was quelled, Marvos was handed over to the Imperials for execution – and henceforth why he is sitting with us in this small wooden cart heading to the headsman's axe.

My second brother-in-chains was, in fact, not a brother at all, but a sister – Iliwen – an Altmer. Teary-eyed and nervously praying, it was clear to me from first impression that Iliwen was certainly not a hardened or experienced criminal, simply a pretty young girl in the wrong place at the wrong time, and when I finally drew her out of her protective shell enough for to share her story with the rest of us, my theories were confirmed. At only 15 she was the youngest of our party, and only recently had she left her homeland of Valenwood – or rather she was exiled – declared a 'traitor to the state' by the vicious Thalmor Government, Iliwen was framed of murder, and because of her nervous disposition was unable to defend herself adequately in trial. Following her exile, it was not long before she ended up in with a group of travelling bandits making a living by sacking small villages; she was not a fighter and was scared of violence, but she had a natural affinity for strategizing and coordinating organised raids, this earned her an honoured spot amongst her travelling vagabonds. However she hated herself for it. Every night she would be plagued with nightmares, unable to sleep as she was wracked with guilt for the terrible crimes that she had planned, it made her sick to her stomach and all she could do was tell herself that one day she'd get away from it all and start a new life somewhere in Skyrim, or maybe Cyrodil, far from elves, far from the Thalmor, a new life in the country. That day never came. Finally succumbing to her overbearing guilt Iliwen finally broke and attempted suicide, unable to live with herself anymore and convinced that her sacrifice would please the Nine Divines more than any more innocent deaths she slit her wrists with a knife that her fellow raiders had given her. Despairingly, Iliwen woke the next morning to find herself alive, in agony and sedated, but alive. The other bandits and found her nearly dead and wrapped her wounds up before selling her to the Imperial Troops for some cold hard coin, after all, what use was a leader that didn't have the guts to get the job done; the very next day Iliwen was on the cart heading for Helgen alongside the rest of us.

The third member of our merry little group was an Argonian male named Shadresi, but stated that for too many years now he was known by his 'Cyrodilic' name: Hides-In-Shadows. Melancholically reflecting that even his native Saxhleel name sounds alien to him, it'd been far, far too long since he'd set foot in his native Black Marsh – but he yearned for it so much, it was his dream to be home. To be free. However fate does not dictate the script of life to the whims of mortals, and on the day that Hides-In-Shadows had finally secured a ship to sail back to Black Marsh, his boat was plundered by pirates from Stros M'Kai (In Hammerfell, home of the Redguards). Mercilessly the Redguard privateers ransacked his pride and joy, his ship that he'd spent years saving up for and they stole anything of value from its decks, even things which had next-to-no monetary value like Shadresi's clothes and his pet tortoise: Flippers. After proceeding to destroy his life dream, the ruthless wastrels of the sea then decided to cut off one of the poor Argonian's arms – just to test whether 'it would grow back'. It didn't. A severely beaten, green-scaled, spikey-headed Argonian washed upon the shores of Riften the next day, he tried to find work but there was no job for a one-armed Argonian, as even the two-armed variety were totally expendable commodities to the local Nords. Desperation claimed Shadresi and he resorted to thievery to survive; making a home for himself in the Ratway under the city he only came out at night to steal food and other supplies he needed to live – the city guard became suspicious of him, and despite no solid evidence they charged him with cases of thievery, banditry and scaring children. No less than two hours later he was on the cart to Helgen with the rest of us.

Finally, that leaves me, the fourth and final member of our party. My name is Lars, of the clan War-Broken, although I have long renounced my clanship since they defected to the Empire, or rather, they sold me out to the Imperials in the middle of the night because I refused to pick up a sword and die in General Tullius' name. Two legion troops appeared at our cozy Whiterun home in the dead of night armed with swords and maces; I had three choices in my mind: stay and fight and most likely die; surrender and come quietly and most likely die or run and most likely die. I ran. I ran for months, but the legion pursued me like the relentless bloodhounds of war that they are. Eventually a Legion spy in a small tavern in Falkreath Hold captured me and I was bound and sent to Helgen without a trial or even a chance to say any last goodbyes. I've never really believed in Ulfric's cause to greatly myself, but it seems I have now become a Stormcloak without much choice in the matter, given that I'm wanted by the Empire for that oh-so-great crime of being a conscientious objector in a pointless war.

"Hey you lot quiet down back there!" The Imperial driving the cart arrogantly snarled at us "Don't make me kill you early now, General Tullius personally wants to see your heads roll, ha!"

We all begrudgingly accepted this imposed silence, given that we were all far too tired and weak to fight anymore and for the rest of the journey to Helgen we all sat in near silence, with the occasional whisper back and forth passed about the cart. It was nearly midday when the old rickety wooden cart finally pulled up into Helgen, the horse's hooves clacked loudly against the stony road into town and from small wooden houses villagers had emerged at their doorsteps to witness the events which were about to unfold. The first cart bearing Ulfric entered the main plaza swiftly followed by our cart and then the large wooden-log gate was closed behind us. The exits were now sealed. There was no escape.

"Get those prisoners out of there and just put them over in the tower or something! Get them out the way, Ulfric's execution is what were here for" One of the higher-ranking Imperial Officers ordered the driver of our cart

He and three other legion soldiers threw us into the stone-walled tower that was surfacing as a makeshift prison. The guard who threw me was particularly rough and when he launched me I was sent hurtling into a wooden table which shattered under the force of the collision and as I slowly blacked out (due to taking the hit to the head) I could overhear guards laughing at me for being so weak. A disgrace to Nords everywhere. Then black.

I blipped in and out of consciousness, hearing a few blurry sounds that distorted in my head.

Imperials laughing. An axe being sharpened loudly at a grindstone.

My eyes fluttered open momentarily, I caught a glimpse of the maddening and shaking world around me.

Vayln with a sword in his hands. A dead Imperial. Iliwen's shackles being cut off by Marvos.

I felt my entire world being shook up as someone lifted me onto their shoulder, that's the last thing I can remember. That, and a terrible screech in a forgotten tongue coming from outside the tower; it sounded almost like a... a dragon.

-x-

A/N – Alright guys that's my first chappy up let me know what you think please R&R, I'm very happy to take on board any constructive criticism, or even if you think I should be banned from ever writing anything again it's that god-awful, please lemme know thanks Oh, and apparently Redguard pirates watch too much Dragonball Z, as they seem to mix up Argonians and Namekians, strange world.


	2. A Secret Meeting

The Others

Chapter 2: A Secret Meeting

A/N – Hi guys, thanks for reviewing and I'll try to please with this next instilment (but since I'm a shit writer I doubt that'll happen aha).

Disclaimer – I don't own TES, Skyrim, etc. etc.

-x-

I had drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the journey from Helgen to wherever the hell I was now and I hadn't been able to amass my composure enough to make any sort of recognition of where I was going, or who I was with. So, quite understandably, I was very confused when I awoke in a tavern – if it wasn't for the cut on the top of my head and the marks on my wrists from the shackles – I'd have quite possibly convinced myself it was all one long dream, or a drunken adventure, or possibly a skooma-induced hallucination. Unfortunately it slowly dawned on me it was none of them things; this was all real.

Scanning my surroundings I saw that I was lying on a small wooden single bed that was topped with the pelt of a sabre-cat, it matched the rug on wooden-log floor of the room which was adorned with a double-sized pelt, sewn together from multiple sabre-cat corpses. Wooden panels ran around all the walls of the room and there was a small stool and table next to my bed which, to my surprise, was occupied by a Redguard woman dressed in a plain brown cloth tunic and her long black hair was up tied in a messy bun.

"Hi there" she smiled at me, I tried to smile back but as I wasn't fully compos mentis yet.

"Wow, you've been out for a while sleepy-head," she said playfully "I've been waiting for to give you this for hours now, and it's really mean of you to keep a lady waiting"

A look of confusion spread across my face, I propped myself up against the headboard so I could engage in conversation with her more thoroughly.

"Ummm, hi there…." I spluttered, thoroughly unprepared for this encounter "I'm really confused, what's going on… why am I here?"

"Don't worry, it'll all make sense soon, you just relax and read this," the woman handed me a sealed letter, which I grasped awkwardly "You have a read of that and then come and see me at the bar" she smiled at me before departing and I attempted to nod coolly in reply back to her – but I have no doubt that in my present state of being I probably came off looking like some sort of brain-damaged Horker.

Once she had departed I resigned to open the letter and read its contents; it was written in hastily scrawled standard cyrodillic language:

"If you're reading this then you've made it safely to Falkreath and you've met my friend Naari. I hope this letter finds its way to you as I intended as I need to speak to you again, we all do. I don't have time to write any further, Naari will instruct you on where to go next.

Blessings of the Nine Divines upon you,

Hides-In-Shadows"

I re-read the letter multiple times over to fully absorb its contents, before looking over at the table where Naari was sitting, there was a rusted iron key left precariously on the edge of the table, I took the key and then noticed the small wooden chest at the foot of the bed, it was obviously left there for me. Fiddling with the lock I then proceeded to insert the key and loot its contents: a fairly dull Iron Sword that had seen better days; old nicked leather armour which had clearly been patched up multiple times throughout the history of its usage and finally a coin purse which I counted out and contained exactly 100 Septims.

Only serving to further my confusion, I examined the items I had assumedly been left and then changed into the armour, despite its age and tears, it was a solid leather hide and had been tempered to increase its resistivity to melee attacks – it fitted perfectly, much to my surprise. The sword was light in my hand and had a good swing to it, I knew it could do with taking to a grindstone and sharpened but I still think that I could leave a pretty nasty dent in a foe if it came to that. Once I'd finished gearing up I left my room and went to the bar of the traditional Nordic tavern stone pillars adorned with animal horns held up the wooden strut roofing and a warming fire was lit on the coal stove in the centre of the room and swords and shields decorated the wooden panelled back walls – the hall was filled with the noise of rambunctious Nords drinking and laughing set to the tune of 'Ragnar the Red' sung by a beguiling Altmer bard.

Casually I walked up to the bar where I could see Naari serving drinks to some customers: a flirtatious young Nord man who wore burgundy and had medium-long blonde hair, he was trying to proposition Naari over a drink and was failing badly; the other was a quiet and reserved Dunmer woman who looked mysterious and kept her head beneath her hood most of the time, contented with slowly sipping at her wine and not joining in the festivities. Once the two customers had cleared been served I got Naari's attention and before I could start asking her any questions she started speaking promptly.

"Hey there, good to see you're up and about! Now I bet you have lots of questions right?"

I could only manage a singly syllable of a confused 'Yeaaa' as a form of backchannel behaviour before she interrupted me again, clearly in a hurry as she had to see to other customers too.

"Well I'll answer 'em all quick as I can now and send you on your way before you bring the Imperials my way and cause me a whole heap o' trouble," she smiled, as sincerely as possible given the danger of the current situation "Well your friends passed through town earlier but they dropped you off here, said you were too out of it to travel and that the only chance any of you's would make it was if you split up, so I agreed to hide you here for a while – but you need to go as soon as you can, the Imperials could be beating down my door at any minute and I ain't much of a fighter so I think we'd be in for it then. Go to Fort Greymoor, north-east of here, in Whiterun Hold."

Nodding understandingly I quickly departed, but not before thanking Naari thoroughly for her kindness and hospitality and giving her a hug, I would have loved to stayed and talked to her, but I knew that I couldn't – not if it meant putting her in danger. As I stepped outside I was bitten by a fervent chilling breeze that howled most ferociously as it battered lavender plants and rose bushes outside the tavern; the hanging sign outside read 'The Dead Man's Drink'. I looked around the town of Falkreath for a short while before I departed, feeling the need to acquire some supplies for my journey: 2 healing potions from 'A Grave Concoction' the local alchemical store, priced at 20 Septims each; an old iron shield for a bargain of 15 Septims from the town's general store: 'Grey Pine Goods'. After having supplied myself sufficiently for the journey, I took my leave and began to follow the rough forest trail leading to Fort Greymoor.

-x-

The journey was surprisingly less perilous than I had predicted and I made it to the Fort in less than an hour, along the way a strange ragged greyish brown-haired dog had begun following me; I quite enjoyed the company and he barked ferociously at any bandits who wanted to try and rob me. Although I did have one altercation that had inevitably held up my journey, a highwayman that attempted to hold me up as I crossed a bridge into Whiterun Hold; after emerging from underneath the bridge like some sort of troll he jumped in front of me, steel dagger in hand, and demanded that I give him the remainder of my gold. Naturally, the dog (who I have taken to naming Brandy, after my favourite Colovian drink, ha!) howled menacingly at this oncoming attacker, but he was not threatened and then mocked my travel companion before indicating to the wolf-pelt he had strapped to the shoulder of his studded hide armour, forming some sort of crude pauldron of protection. It was Brandy this time that was frightened and he took position up behind me.

"Here then ya braggard! Is y'gonna give us the gold or is I gonna have to take it off ya cold dead corpse?" The thief snarled at me

"Let's not get carried away here," I tried to reason with him "Were only 5 minutes away from the city of Whiterun, guards patrol this route all the time, if they encounter us fighting then we will both surely be taken into custody."

"'Ere now, don't think you can trick me laik that, am smarter then I look ain't I, Mr. Snuggles?" he propositioned to the clearly-dead wolf's head resting on his shoulder "I think you's is scared to fight me cos ya know I'll have ya guts fer garters!" He smirked viciously then moved closer slicing wildly at the air in front of me with his dagger, aimed at intimidating me (he also looked like a mentally-challenged Falmer, although I have my doubt as to whether that was his intention also).

"Hey now think about this, if you just walk away now I'll carry on my way and not breath a word of your being here to the Whiterun guard, I think you know it would be wise to heed my advice here." I calmly reasoned with the flailing bandit, who it appeared had succumbed to the sound voice of common sense.

Grumbling, he stopped attacking and regained his protective stance from earlier "Grrr, you might just have a point there, I dan't want to take on no guardsmen, those are some right tough wankers right there." The thief ran off, but was struck down from seemingly nowhere before he took five steps.

I examined the corpse, an arrow had pierced his carotid artery and killed him instantly; I looked around searching for the source of the arrow before glancing over at a warm torch light radiating from the upper balcony of a Whiterun guard's tower, I nodded in the direction of the guardsmen although I doubt they could see me, before taking off again for Fort Greymoor.

-x-

Once I'd arrived at the fort I'd hoped to spot my three comrades from the execution, sadly there was no one in sight, I was about to give up hope but then Brandy ran off somewhere and I followed him – had he picked up their scent? Or was he just being a nuisance? I followed, he lead me to a small sewer entrance at the back of the fort, I had very little intention of going in through that entrance, unfortunately, Brandy had made up my mind for me and darted down the stone hall way, splashing in the sewers along the way. Begrudgingly I followed, but it was not ten minutes before I was glad of my decision as Brandy had leaded me directly to the hidden room of Fort Greymoor! What a good dog he is!

"You've made it at last!" I was greeted most fortuitously by the most jubilant Shadresi, he was anxious to greet me with a handshake and then lead me to the table where sat Iliwen and Vayln Marvos.

"It's good to see you again" Iliwen quietly signalled to me, granting only a shy smile before returning to furrowing her brow and hiding her face from me.

Vayln was less than pleased to see my arrival "Well, you've finally gotten here, it's not like we've been waiting for a good day at least for you – I say we don't need Lars for this plan at all, but that's just me!" he resounded most angrily towards the rest of the party, I nodded uncomfortably towards him, signifying a greeting of sorts.

"Here now Vayln don't be so negative!" Hides-In-Shadows reassured me and the rest of the group of my necessity to the group "He's just as much a part of this as the rest of us, the four of us got out of Helgen together and we won't desert one another now!"

"Fine." Marvos grumbled.

"Good, I'm glad we're in agreement," the Argonian continued his speech "Well we're all here for the same reason, the Imperials are after us – we're wanted criminals – some of us might be used to this, others perhaps not, but that is why we are together here now, we are going to make it through this…"

"Well that's all very well and good," Vayln interrupted "But what are we actually going to do? We can hardly take on the legion – you've got one arm, the girl's a crying mess and that Nord can't handle a sword!" he shouted almost spitting as he began to storm about the small stone makeshift conference room, finally taking up a residing position at the bookcase in the concave, taking out a hardback, leather-bound tome and effectively exiting himself from the deliberations for the time being.

"Oh Vayln give over!" Shadresi yelled, but getting no reply he merely carried on without the Dunmer's help "Right, well, ummm, ok the three, or four, of us here all need refuge from the legion – now I propose first that we plan a secretive evacuation, does anyone know anywhere we could go, to get out of Skyrim if we have to?" He questioned, hopeful of an intelligent response from his party.

"Hmm, what if we journey west, to Valenwood – the Empire's jurisdiction is overruled by the Thalmor in those territories." I pondered the idea, but before I could continue to suggest means to achieve such an end Iliwen interrupted, appearing very distressed:

"No! We can't go there" she screamed, sobbing slightly as memories of her time in Valenwood resurfaced "I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry for shouting, I just can't, I can't…. I…. just please don't make me go there, the Thalmor, they did things…." She trailed off as her sobs had now evolved into full blown cries and drowned out her pleas and made them incomprehensible, but that had more of on an effect on us regardless.

"I, I'm very sorry," I apologised awkwardly, I was indeed most endearingly apologetic for upsetting her, but my lack of social aptitude may have clouded the sincerity of my apology somewhat "I promise you, we will never ever take you to Valenwood, that's a promise, or to anywhere the Thalmor might be lurking, that's a promise Iliwen." I regained my composure and comforted the fragile young High Elf.

Smiling, she looked up at me and thanked me greatly before Hides-In-Shadows took control of the deliberations once again.

"Well we can't head west, and going south would mean we'd be running into the Imperial capital of Cyrodiil – and that would be an exercise in futility – so where else is there to go, we can't hide out here forever!" Shadresi was beginning to lose his patience, and as I'd seen so far he was a very patient man, things were bad.

"What if…" I began, hoping something would come to be whilst I stuttered stalling for thinking time "What if… What if…" then it came to me "Ah! What if we don't flee Skyrim at all – think about it, they're expecting us to flee, what if we hold out somewhere here in Skyrim whilst they spread their search across the continent?"

"That's the first good idea I've heard today," Vayln emerged from within his own little world in the corner and then proceeded to take my idea and spearhead the operation from then on "Ok, so we've established that we're not fleeing Skyrim, good, at least we've reached a unanimous decision for once. Now then, we need somewhere to go – I think it would be wise for us to look at our own pasts, we may be wanted criminals by the Empire, but we only have bounties on us in one specific Hold each, we need to find a Hold we're all of us are relatively unknown and settle there, don't you think?" he questioned us, but it wasn't really a question as he had made it so that there was no reply other than to agree with him.

"That's good thinking Marvos!" Hides-In-Shadows exclaimed "I'm wanted in The Rift – Iliwen, your bounty is for The Reach is it not?" she nodded, answering him "Right, and Vayln your wanted in Winterhold and finally Lars, where did you say your family hailed from?"

"Whiterun Hold" I replied solemnly

"Okay right, so that leaves Haafingar, Hjaalmarch, Falkreath, East March and The Pale. Any preferences people?" He quizzed us.

"Solitude is in Haafingar, that's the Imperial capital so that's likely to have much stronger Imperial presence than the other Holds" I commented, ruling that option out of the deliberations.

Vayln responded wisely "We can't stay in Falkreath, too close to Helgen, there likely to search for us here."

Iliwen nervously added her own input, scared of what we'd think "I think The Pale would be a good place to hide out – Windhelm is there, maybe the Stormcloaks would give us asylum from the Empire."

"Brilliant! Iliwen you should really speak up more often you have a genius brain!" Shadresi revelled and we all laughed and smiled and Iliwen joined in, her confidence seemingly boosted by her bright idea.

We all celebrated and cheered over a few glasses of mead that the bandits who previously owned this Fort had left over, even Vayln joined in the festivities, someday soon this would all be over – no more hiding out, no more running, just our lives free to live as our own.

That's what we told ourselves at least.

-x-

A/N – Alright guys that's the end of chapter two thanks for reading, please R&R cos I need the advice and stuffs and I'll love you forever if you do thankies:D


	3. Party Games and Revelations

The Others

Chapter 3: Party Games and Revelations

A/N – Hey new chappy up, hope you guys like it

Disclaimer – I don't own TES, Skyrim, etc. etc. same basic thing as every chapter.

-x-

For the first time in a long time, and equally for the first time in a long time to come, every one of our party was content – in fact, I'd say this level of merriment and festivity surpassed content quite drastically – we we're almost exuberant. For one night, everything was alright in our small little fort in the middle of nowhere; out of the way of the Imperial guard and equally inconspicuous to Whiterun Hold guard who'd rather just assume the place was overrun with Draugr than actually perform an investigation into the inhabitation status of the fort. Besides, the Jarl of Whiterun was far too concerned with other matters at this time, apparently whilst we'd all been drinking and laughing there had been a dragon attack at another fort in the hold – by this point we were all too inebriated for to give any particular caution to the world outside our safe haven.

"I think we're out of Mead guys!" Hides-In-Shadows proclaimed to the rest of us, we weren't too bothered really.

"It's alright we have plenty of empty bottles, ha!" I laughed, despite the comment being completely unfunny, the rest of the party laughed alongside me – as expected of drunken fools on the run from the law.

"Ahaha your right Nord, having plenty of empty bottles is something you'd know a lot about right? Haha!" Shadresi teased mockingly.

I pulled a serious face before replying to his somewhat racist comment "Perhaps, your more accustomed to seeing bottle wine after you've spent all day picking the grapes on your masters land – am I right, Argonian?"

We both looked at each other with grave severity. Before simultaneously bursting into laughter and complimenting each other's apparently quick-witted comments.

"Since you're the expert on the subject, what should we do with all these empty bottles?" Shadresi questioned without any intention, his question served just as a means to further propagate his 'drunken Nord' stereotype.

Then an idea occurred to me, would have seemed to a normal man as being completely childish, inundate, and idiotic to me seemed like the best idea I'd ever had. "How about… Spin the bottle!" I'm guessing the alcohol contributed to my foolishness.

"Why you completely insane, half-moronic and half-lackadaisical Nord – that is fucking genius, I spin first!" Shadresi exclaimed; it was at this point I came to the realisation that he was the only person in the room more intoxicated than I was.

We all gathered round the wooden table in the centre of the room, Iliwen was still herself mainly, slightly more talkative but not much more than usual – Vayln on the other hand had taken to becoming more even more frustrated and wound-up with the rest of us. I'm sure I can remember a few times throughout the course of the night him insisting we all go to bed in order to be well rested for our journey tomorrow.

"Ok I get to spin first! I already said so, I shall strike you down where you stand if you deny me!" Hides-In-Shadows roared his declaration, completely un-seriously of course as we had all ascertained by this point of observing his antics.

"Very well," I responded with a faked tone of solemnness "You may go" Then I laughed. So did everyone else.

Taking a very serious approach to his spin, Shadresi tactically sized up the bottle from all angles (making sure to pout in a philosophical manner whilst doing so) before finally clawing at the bottle's top sending hurtling in a circular rotation before slowing and then sealing the fate of the unfortunate individual upon which it landed. It was me. That one-armed scaly bastard!.

"Now Lars I only have three words for you," he paused to increase the surmounting dramatic tension of his address "Truth. Or. Dare!"

Looking about the room I weighed up my options; I then formed the finger-pyramid of contemplation in front of my mouth covering my fuzzy-blonde stubble. "Truth!" I proclaimed, this received a rare tumultuous roar from Iliwen who it appeared was finally succumbing to the socializing effect of the alcohol – that or she really loved childish party games. Shadresi however hissed at me and mocked my lack of 'Nordishness' I really wasn't bothered, I was more interested in Iliwen's sudden entry into the foray of our game, so I just brushed him off with a racist quipe before he decided my fate.

"Hmmm, okay well ummmm…" he pondered ponderously "Ah! Why did refuse to fight for the Empire?" He shot a wry smile, believing he had outfoxed me.

"Aren't these meant to be yes or no answers?" I attempted to wriggle out of the situation.

"I have spoken!" decreed the obnoxious Argonian "What say you?"

I was about to begin when Iliwen interrupted "Come on, we're all friends here don't worry" she smiled and I was heartily encouraged to tell my tale.

"Well… I guess my story begins with my former clan – the War-Broken Clan of Whiterun have for, as long as I can remember, been hardy patriotic Nords through and through so I was as surprised as anyone when they threw their lot in with the Imperials. I never truly understood their decision. I thought to conclude their decision was based part in a misunderstanding of the purpose of the Stormcloak rebellion, part in a lack of foresight as to what would come of Skyrim if it was annexed officially by the Empire. Mostly, however, I attributed the callousness of their reckless decision to an underlying greed that has plagued our family for generations. Jarl Baalgruf would have easily had his hands in his pockets to secure the alliance of our family's strongest and fittest fighters to defend Whiterun should there be an attempted Stormcloak besiegement of the city.

That crippling weakness in my father's character would eventually lead to the severance of myself from the rest of my clan, and I imagine, at some point in the future; his massive failing of character will lead to his downfall. I can prophesise it without much effort, a stray deal with a untrustworthy bandit leader or bribing too many officials, the man will acquisition himself too many enemies someday, maybe on that day I can return home to my family, I really don't know.

Anyway, when I was told I was to leave my life behind in Whiterun and travel to Solitude to enlist in the Imperial Legion, well I was most displeased to say the least. In fact I was only one day away from proposing to this beautiful young elven girl who was the next-door neighbour's maid. I loved her so, we'd been dating for only a few months secretively, but I knew she was the one for me. Well when I tried to persuade my father to allow me to consent to the marriage and take up residence with her in a small town outside Whiterun. He denied adamantly on all accounts. I was to serve in the legion and that's final.

Unable to let the future I'd promised her slip away from the both of us, we planned a midnight elopement – we'd be free of the Imperials and our overbearing families forever, we'd move to Valenwood, to live with her family, I so wish I had the chance to meet them. I never did. My father, Orlock, learned of the elopement from our own maid, a snivelling gossipy Breton, who had relayed the entire plan to both my clan and the one for which my beloved served, the Ice-Fangs.

Nightmarish. That's still how I remember that night. At exactly midnight I met her at the stables, we then shared our very last embrace. Just before we managed to mount our horse two Imperial legion soldiers who were stationed just outside of our rendezvous point then secured the both of us and brought us back to my father inside the city.

Then… Then… I…" I had to stop, the memories were hurting me severely now, a caring Iliwen comforted me and assured me that it was ok and I didn't need to continue, I smiled up at the young elven girl and smiled, she was so sweet, so caring. Hides-In-Shadows then interrupted the moment.

"Ah I'm not happy about that! You got out of it too easy!" The unwittingly insensitive Argonian shouted "Oh well, it's your turn next Vayln!"

Rolling his eyes, Vayln then span the bottle and it landed on Shadresi. "Alright then let's quickly finish this exercise in futility and get rested for tomorrow"

"Dare me, Elf!" he proclaimed.

"Fine," he sighed "Cook me a nice meal, doesn't that sound fun?"

Hides-In-Shadows reluctantly accepted the dare, fearful of what the forfeit might be (he might have to bake a cake! Heaven forbid!) Effectively removing him from the game. I still debate on whether or not Vayln did that on purposely to get Shadresi out of the way as he was being too loud, or simply to be an arrogant spoiled sport, either way it had a drastic effect on the game now that the obnoxious Argonian was no longer dictating the script.

"I believe it's your turn now Iliwen" Marvos handed over the bottle and passed on the role of spinner. Nodding dutifully, Iliwen then spun the bottle gently and it barely managed three rotations before it landed directly on me.

"Hmm, okay – truth or dare!" the High Elf managed a coy smile as she aimed her question my way.

I deliberated concisely, left with the very strong possibility that I'd be questioned further on my past if I selected the truth option, so it seemed that I was presented with only one plausible answer. "Dare".

"Hmm, okay, right," Iliwen paused, pondering the options she could present me with "Ah! I have it! I dare you to answer this question truthfully!" she teased, knowing I'd wanted to avoid answering a truth question. Damn truth or dare and it's easily exploitable rules.

"Awh man!" I protested pointlessly, but I gave in, and in a way, I kind of didn't mind giving in to her.

"Okay, do you trust me?" Iliwen asked, taking me by surprise.

Furrowing my brow I looked back at her, confused as to the intent of her question "Yes, of course, why?"

"That's all I needed to know, that was my question too, I just wanted to know if you trusted me, I'm glad you do" She smiled at me, and I returned it.

"Of course I trust you, but your allowed to have another question if you want?" I was being uncharacteristically generous.

"No, that's all I needed to know," she was uncharacteristically beaming, I believed it was mostly due to the alchohol, but I also think she really needed someone she could trust – Vayln was aloof and mysterious, and Shadresi was loud and obnoxious, she hadn't really found anyone she could confide in until I came along. Thankfully, she too had fulfilled the need for me as well. I was now very, very glad that she was here.

"You too are making me positively sick; if you don't want me to forcefully projectile vomit then I'd advise you two to save it for the bedroom!" Vayln interrupted our conversation, causing Iliwen to revert to her old shy self and begin blushing brightly.

Vayln stormed into the next room and climbed into his makeshift sleeping bag made of sabre-cat pelt, Iliwen, consumed by embarrassment followed suit and also went to sleep. Everything had suddenly happened so fast and given my confused state already due to the inebriation, this only added to my bemusement, which was then compounded again even further when I realised that Shadresi had disappeared half way through cooking a stew for Vayln and also snuck off to bed. With no potential conversation partners I resigned to my makeshift sleeping bag, my head full of very varying thoughts: The thought of facing the Empire tomorrow; my family back home in Whiterun – or whatever is left of them – but most of all Iliwen, fight as I might I couldn't stave off the thoughts of her from infiltrating my mind; her bright exuberant eyes, so full of life yet a deep hidden pain was visible behind them upon close enough inspection, the way she held herself and her manner of being, elegant yet simultaneously shy and nervous. Iliwen was most certainly an enigma, she represented to me both an escape from the past and a reminder of it in a harmonious duality. I certainly wished to get to know her better.

I just hoped that we'd both live that long.

-x-

A/N – Alright guys that's the end of chapter three thanks for reading, please R&R 'cos your all so lovely like that:D


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